


Close Encounters of the Stephanie Brown Kind

by predilection



Series: Close Encounters and Cautionary Tales [1]
Category: Batgirl (Comics), Batman and Robin (Comics), DCU (Comics), Under the Red Hood
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-11
Updated: 2013-10-11
Packaged: 2017-12-29 03:33:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1000379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/predilection/pseuds/predilection
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was not how Jason Todd expected to meet Stephanie Brown.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Close Encounters of the Stephanie Brown Kind

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in June of 2010 and takes place when Dick is Batman and Bruce Wayne is "dead". This is an AU in that the characters have slightly different histories and that Jason is redeemable. 
> 
> Warning: This is unbetaed, comic book logic and violence abounds, and Jason swears a lot.

There are a group of assholes kidnapping teenage girls on his turf, which is why Jason is spending his Friday night on a dingy fire escape overlooking an alley instead of asleep in his shithole apartment.

He watches as two guys wearing ski-masks drag a struggling blond girl across the alley. As they unceremoniously throw her into the back of a nondescript van and slam the doors shut, Jason really wants to punch their faces in. He takes a deep breath and summons his patience. If he wants to put an end to this kidnapping nonsense, he needs to know where these goons are going. Unfortunately, that means he has to bide his time and hope they don't discover the tracker he planted on their tailpipe an hour ago.

After the van drives off, he waits approximately thirty seconds before grabbing his hood and leather jacket, and revving up his motorcycle. He locates their hideout nine blocks away and stakes out the place. Then he prepares a message for the police containing the location and all the other information he has on their operation and sets his phone to send it in ten minutes.

It's a medium-size operation. Their stronghold is on the upper three stories of a five-story building that used to be a bottle factory before the earthquake. Jason's pretty sure the girls are being held in a windowless corner of the fourth floor. There are make-shift "offices" on the fifth, and Jason starts there. 

He takes out three guys with guns before cornering a tall well-groomed man in a suit. A few choice words and three punches to the face, and the man confirms the location of the girls. Jason ties the man to a chair as he ransacks the "office" for evidence. He finds two incriminating-looking manila envelopes. He tucks one into his leather jacket for safe keeping. The second he staples to the lapel of the man's suit. Jason would be lying if he said he didn't get some kind of thrill out of the way the man squirms uncomfortably.

Jason makes his way to the fourth floor, taking out anyone foolish enough to be in his path and carrying a gun. There's what looks like an old storage room in the west corner being guarded by three guys of medium build. Jason's lucky. It looks they're the only ones on this floor, but he knows that's probably going to change in a minute -- a minute a thirty seconds tops -- when the guys on the third floor realize Jason's there. 

He knocks out the guards with ease and they clamour to the ground, their weapons falling with them. Before he proceeds any further, Jason reaches inside his leather jacket and takes out two guns of his own. He doesn't know if it says something about the competency of the kidnapping operation or his training that he hasn't needed one before now.

The storage room door is locked, so Jason runs at it with all he's got. The wood splinters under the force of his left side and the instant he's in the room, he's got the guns in both his hands raised, prepared to shoot anyone with a rifle. He's not expecting to find three guys beaten, unconscious and tied up in the centre of the room. Nor is he expecting to locate the kidnapped girls, stripped down to the underwear, lying against the far wall out direct sight of the door. The girls seem to be drugged and half-conscious, but otherwise appear unharmed. The room is relatively secure. For an absurd section, Jason thinks that Dick and the newest little bird on the block must have gotten here before him.

And then someone kicks Jason in the back of the head. By the time he realizes that there was someone hiding above the doorframe, his guns are knocked clear of his hands. Whoever it is follows through with a knee to his gut. As Jason doubles over, he raises his hands above his head.

"Jesus Christ, I'm one of the good guys." 

Whoever it is takes two steps back and Jason straightens. In front of him in a defensive stance and purple underwear is the blond girl from the alley. 

"Good guys," she repeats with a disbelieving huff.

He tries to lower his hands and a moment later, she's holding a dagger to his throat. He recognizes it instantly as the one that should be in his jacket pocket. He smirks, impressed. He didn't even notice it was missing.

"Not that you need my help." His eyes slide sideways to his guns on the ground a meter away and she presses the blade tighter against his skin.

He looks back at her. For the first time, he notices the scars criss-crossing her lean frame and he puts two and two together. He knows what kind of life covers someone so young with scars like those. He's got similar ones under his clothes. He thought she was just a girl in the wrong place at the wrong time, but now he knows her abduction was no accident. He huffs out a laugh. He's never met her, but he knows exactly who she is. Truth be told, this was not how he expected to meet the infamous Stephanie Brown.

"Look, Batgirl," he says and she stiffens briefly. "We've got about ten seconds before the hired help arrives and starts shooting, so you can either keep me in here to use as a human meat shield or you can let me do what I came here to do."

She eyes him carefully and he can tell he's being appraised. Her lips turn up at the corners, and then she surprises him by turning the blade in her hand around so that she's offering him the handle.

"Alright, meat shield," she says, a hint of humour in her voice. "But I'm keeping your guns and you're not allowed to kill anybody."

They both hear the footfalls of men approaching and Jason knows they don't have time to negotiate. "I make no promises," he says and before she can respond, he's out the door and taking out the first asshole who rounds the corner with a rifle. 

The layout of the fourth floor provides too much cover for too many guys with guns. The layout, however, provides plentiful opportunities for ambushes, which Jason takes advantage of. He loses track of three guys when some jackass tries to throw a gas grenade at his face, but Jason's sure that Stephanie can take care of them. 

He's knocked out all but two of the goons when he hears police sirens. The goons try to make a break for it, so Jason chases them long enough to make sure they're unconscious. Jason doesn't want any of these fuckers taking hostages before the police arrive.

Jason's running back towards the storage room when he hears the gunshot, strangely loud in the aftermath of the fight. Jason quickens his pace and as he gets closer, Jason almost trips over the unconscious bodies of two of the guys who got past him. Then the third stumbles backwards out of the storage room door and collapses by Jason's feet, Jason's dagger in his chest.

Cursing, Jason rushes into the room. The hostages are unharmed, but Stephanie is slumped against the wall, her right hand applying pressure to what looks like a gunshot wound on her left shoulder. She also looks like she's fighting to stay awake, and Jason realizes that somehow she was dosed with whatever drug is working its way through the other girls' systems.

"The cops are here," he tells her, even though she probably already knows. She drags herself to her feet. Her left arm hangs ineffectively at her side and he curses. He knows that they're not friends, but tonight they're not enemies either. He slides one of his arms around her back to support her as they make their way to a window and then onto a fire escape. 

There, he pulls out his grapple. As he grabs her firmly around her midsection, she laughs at him. He thinks it's the drugs until she quips, "Not on the first date." He feels his lips quirk upwards as he pulls them up into the air.

They land on a rooftop three blocks away. Even though they're in the shadows he can faintly make out the scars scattered across her skin. His eyes are drawn one running parallel to the top of her underwear. He's surprised she has a scar like that one.

"Well, this is my stop," she says, still seeming in good spirits despite everything she's been through. She makes a beeline for the nearest roof-access hatch.

He's not sure if it's because they made a good team, because she's bleeding all over her bra or because she's hot, but he says her name to stop her retreat. When she stills and turns, he tells her, "You need medical attention."

"No shit, sherlock," she retorts around a wince. "I guess you really were trained by the world's greatest detective."

She's staring at him. Her gaze is intense even with the way the drugs are making her eyes glassy, and he thinks that maybe she's not just looking at him, but also looking straight through him to someone he used to be.

He reaches into his jacket and she tenses until he pulls out his cell phone and holds it out to her. "Call whoever you gotta call."

Her right palm still placed firmly against her shoulder, she reaches for it with her left. Her movements are sluggish as she starts punching in a number.

He's thinks of offering to make the call for her, but he's pretty damn sure she won't let him. Now that they're out of immediate danger, there's no reason for a Bat to be within ten feet of him unless it's to threaten him with therapy and jail time. Still, he's not going anywhere just yet. Her bleeding has mostly stopped, but she still has an unknown drug in her system and he has no idea how much longer she's going to be able to keep pressure on her shoulder.

He's thinking of a way to convince her he's actually trying to help when she drops the phone, mid-dial. "You okay?" he asks, but one look at her and he knows she's not. The drug is taking its toll and she looks she's having trouble staying on her feet. She takes a shaky step towards him. He closes the space between them as her eyes flutter closed and he's there to catch her when her knees give out and she loses consciousness.

 

*

 

Jason wakes up lying on his back and feeling like he's recovering from a cold. His head spins and he's so thirsty that his throat feels like sandpaper. He makes to sit up when he realizes someone is holding him down. Then he feels the cold sharp edge of a blade against his throat. A familiar voice located somewhere above him says, "Don't move."

The night before rushes back to Jason. He remembers taking down a band of kidnappers and the unexpected appearance of Batgirl. He remembers cursing like a sailor as he wrapped her gunshot wound with pieces of his undershirt and he remembers dragging her back to his apartment so he could clean and stitch up her shoulder. He remembers leaving her on his couch to sleep off whatever was in her system. 

He honestly expected her to be long gone by the time he got up. Waking up to her holding a knife to his throat was not in his plans for today. His plans for today involved sleeping for a good sixteen hours and maybe making a pot of coffee.

He groans. "I thought daddy forbid you from slitting throats." His voice sounds like he swallowed gravel.

She laughs, cheerful and alert, and he gets the feeling that she's laughing at him. "That's why I've got two knives," she says and he feels the press of the edge of a second blade threatening his nether regions.

Fuck, he thinks, she's good.

"Is this the thanks I get for saving your life?" he asks.

"Thank you for saving my life," she says in perfect deadpan and then quickly adds, "Now let me out of your apartment."

Jason snorts. "What the hell are you talking about? You can leave at any time."

She rolls her eyes. "Tell that to the bomb on your front door."

It takes Jason a moment to figure out what she's taking about. To be fair, it isn't a bomb as much as a small localized explosive that passes as his security system these days. It's currently disarmed, but he can see why she's confused. The fact that he boarded up his windows with stainless steel is probably not helping his cause either.

"Look, that's not a--" He tries to raise his head off the pillow and she taps his boxers with the knife. "It's not a bomb. It's my equivalent of a deadlock. It's not active. You can walk out of here whenever you want."

She sighs, and he looks up at her. She's wearing one of his old t-shirts. It's too large for her and with the way it's slumping to the right side, he can see her clavicle. It's kinda hot until he remembers her injury. "How's your shoulder?" he asks. 

She frowns and then laughs soft and sad. "I don't want to play any of your games, Jason. I want to go home, and you're going to let me out."

Jason. She called him Jason. Since he figured out who she was, Jason's been aware she knew who he was. Still, it fills Jason with some sort of satisfaction to know that even all these years later his life story is still taught in Bat History 101. "I see we're on a first name basis, Stephanie."

She frowns and slides off the bed and out of his line of slight.

"Look," he says when he's sitting up and she's back to pointing a knife at him menacingly, "We both know that if I was going to hurt you, I would have done it already."

"Yeah," she agrees, "but that doesn't mean I trust you." 

She orders him to move with a flick of her wrist and he raises his hands above his head automatically. "Geez," he complains, "Now I remember why it was no fun being a good guy." He walks the maybe three meters between his bed and the door and yanks it open. Crappy florescent lighting filters into his apartment from the hallway.

"Huh," she says, raising an eyebrow and walking past him and out the door. "You were telling the truth."

Now it's his turn to roll his eyes. "You're welcome."

She's still holding one of his knives. He's not sure where the other one disappeared to, but at the moment, he's distracted by her bare legs and feet. He wants to offer her a ride home, but instead he asks, "Do you want to borrow a jacket?"

She laughs and out of seemingly nowhere produces a cell phone. She waves it at him. It's his. "Thanks, but my ride should be here by now. It would be unwise to keep them waiting." She tosses the phone at him and he catches it with one hand. Then she walks off down the hall and turns into the nearest stairwell.

He closes his apartment door and runs a hand through his hair. There's no way he's going back to sleep after that, so Jason makes himself breakfast and looks for any bugs she might have planted in his apartment. Jason was already well aware she raided his weapon collection, but from the debris on his kitchen table, it looks like she also went through his mail.

Jason pours himself a cup of coffee and stares at the hot liquid in contemplation for a moment. "Stephanie Brown," he says to himself and shakes his head in a mixture of disbelief and amusement.

 

*

 

Jason runs into Stephanie two weeks later by pure chance. It's two in the morning and Jason's eating lunch at one of Gotham's fine twenty-four hour hole-in-the-wall pizzerias. He's shoving a slice of pepperoni and cheese into his mouth when she walks through the door wearing a black hoodie over a purple t-shirt and jeans. She doesn't notice him as she walks up to the counter to place a take-out order.

When the guy who works the nightshift tells her it'll be a few minutes, she leans her back against the counter and looks around the place. Jason's not the only one there, but it's not long before her eyes land on him. She catches him staring. She shakes her head, smiles and pushes off the counter.

"Hey," she says.

"Hey," he replies and kicks out the chair across the table from him. She sits, her elbows resting on the shitty table cloth. He picks up another slice of his pizza, then remembering his manners, he offers it to her.

She gives him a once over with her eyes and then laughs. She seems genuinely amused and unlike the previous times he's heard her laughter, it isn't laced with traces of trepidation. He thinks he could get used to the sound.

"So," she says causally, her chin resting on her palm, "What brings a vigilante like you to a quality establishment like this?"

"Good food." He smirks. "Good company."

She snorts. "Oh, you're a charmer."

"So they tell me." 

She doesn't say anything in response and he doesn't feel like breaking the silence. He's halfway through his slice of pizza when she says, "Thank you. For the other night."

"You mean when I saved your life and you threatened me with knives repeatedly?" He shrugs. "I've had worse first dates."

She's glaring at him, but she's also smiling like she's not sure if she wants to laugh at him or punch him in the face. Honestly, he wouldn't be surprised if she did either. Or both. So he's not expecting it when she lifts her hand above the table and offers it to him to shake. "Steph," she says, like they don't already know each other's histories -- like they haven't already met. And maybe, he thinks, considering her, they haven't. Not really.

"Jason," he replies, taking her hand. 

She grins, and then the guy behind the counter is calling her name. She leaves him to retrieve her order, but on her way out the door, she waves at him. "See you around, Jason."

He sits back in his chair and watches her go.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote a companion piece/sequel to this fic from Steph's POV entitled [The Cautionary Tale of Jason Todd](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1000389).


End file.
